


To Protect and Serve

by livrelibre



Category: White Collar
Genre: Character of Color, Chromatic Character, Community: kink_bingo, Dom/sub, Dubious Consent, F/F, F/M, Multi, Other, Strip Tease, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-20
Updated: 2011-03-20
Packaged: 2017-10-17 03:25:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/172402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livrelibre/pseuds/livrelibre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You know if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you weren’t attracted to me at all.”</p><p>“How’s that?’</p><p>“Not bad.”</p><p>“Is this doing anything for you?”</p><p>“Not a damn thing.”</p><p>“What were you going to do if I hadn’t come in?”</p><p>“Well, I’d have put this strawberry in that guy’s mouth, taken him up to my room, put a gun between his ribs, and told him to shut up and sit tight or I’d arrest him for solicitation.”</p><p>“That is really sexy.”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>-Neal and Diana in 2x02 Need to Know</p><p>Summary: What if that first hotel room scene in 2x02 Need to Know when Diana and Neal were pretending to be hooker and john had gone differently? Neal and Diana get down to brass tacks.<br/>Contains: exposure/striptease, D/s, voyeurism, dubconnish circumstances<br/>Thanks to thingswithwings for the super-fast beta!</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Protect and Serve

Diana and Neal tumbled into the penthouse twined around each other in a parody of hooker/john passion and hit the door closed with Diana’s back, fully prepared to disengage the instant they were out of sight.

But she hadn’t counted on the management being voyeurs. Diana spotted the camera plants in the lights almost immediately in her quick visual sweep of the room, even though most of her attention was on pretending to nibble on Neal’s ear. At least they had bought wholesale, easily identifiable surveillance cameras--so they were cheap as well as voyeuristic blackmailing criminal pricks.

“Cameras,” she whispered in Neal’s ear and he stiffened, though not in the way she might have imagined, given her breath in his ear and how all over each other they were. She heard Peter’s tinny cursing over the comm in the background.

Diana should have known better than to expect any sting with Caffrey to go according to plan. However, actually having to fake fuck him to avoid blowing their covers for the cameras was not high in the roster of her back up plans for tonight. Christie was going to kill her, not for pseudo-infidelity, but for getting herself in hot water because she was having trouble making her cover convincing enough. She was a professional (enough to cheerfully agree to this when Peter asked because he was her boss, but he so owed her), but she hadn’t lied when she said being all up on Caffrey was doing nothing for her. She hated covers like this and it had been too long since she had even had to pretend to fake it, though she was doing an admirable job so far if she did say so herself. It was one thing to sit on Neal (actually that had its perks and she wished she could do it in briefings to throw off that shiny facade) and pretend to whisper sweet nothings (putdowns, sweet nothings, same difference) in his ears, but now they were trapped in a hotel suite with video surveillance, no way out and time to kill until Peter and Jones got them the money they needed to complete their fake assignation and continue with the operation.

Underneath Caffrey’s patented bullshit charm, it looked like he was stalling for all he was worth too. To any outside observer it would look like he was all over her, but his hands merely traced the outlines of her body. Despite his innuendo earlier, he didn’t want this any more than she did. Also, she knew Neal had a gentlemanly streak a mile wide and some prior (and current, if she was not mistaken) entanglements. She knew Kate’s death was still throwing him, no matter how much he played it off, and for all the flirting (with her, Peter, the lamppost), he held everyone at a distance with that glossy facade of Rat Pack insouciance. She also knew it was worrying Peter more than he liked to let on. Even if he hadn’t already confessed his worries about Neal’s recovery, she hadn’t missed his sidelong glances and the possessiveness. His desire to prevent Neal from obsessing and doing something that put him beyond the law and Peter’s protection was more than professional but also personal concern. It was maybe more personal than he realized he was revealing to anyone who knew him well.

“How do you want to play this?” Neal whispered, breath hot on her ear. “We could go for faking it, a little rub and grind and some fake groaning.” He sounded more professional and less enthusiastic about it than she would have expected. Of course, being a con man, faking it had to be second nature for him.

“Yeah, that’d be over fast.” She made sure to punctuate that with a sardonic eyebrow where the cameras couldn’t see. “We need to kill time until they get the money.”

“Oh believe me, I can make it last.” He gave her the eyebrow back with a side of sultry; on camera, she made sure her eyeroll didn’t show. From his quirk-mouthed grin he clearly got the message. God, he was incorrigible. She didn’t see how Peter stood it. But then she didn’t like it as much as he did. “Do you trust me?” On a dime he switched to “appealing little boy” face, though she’d die before saying that out loud.

She writhed convincingly and put her hands between them on his chest, gaining a little space to glare at him in what would hopefully read to the cameras as “ooh baby” rather than “oh god.”

“No farther than I can throw you, though that’s pretty far.”

Neal gave her a look, a little more cryptic than she was used to, and whispered “Follow my lead.” He stumbled back suddenly as if she had pushed him, back to the cameras, and then bowed his head, thumbed his lips and straightened his clothes, looking like a man trying to pull himself together.

In a louder voice, he said, “Forgive me mistress. I was out of line.”

Diana made sure her inner triple take didn’t show on her face either and drew herself up as well, tugging her disarranged clothes and her suddenly ruffled composure back around her. Had Caffrey been digging into her life? There was no way he could know—no, this was just Caffrey’s uncanny genius for adaptability and going with a situation.

“You’re forgiven. . .if you make it up to me. Kneel.”

Neal dropped to his knees with admirable alacrity and grace, as if he were used to this. His own mask was as in place as the sharp lines of his suit. Diana took a moment to circle him, running a hand through his hair and ostensibly admiring while her mind raced to work out the next steps and what the hell was going on in Caffrey’s head.

She stopped in front of him and gazed at him for a moment. Neal did present a pretty picture on his knees--suit barely rumpled, head down but scrutinizing her from beneath lowered lashes, a fine tension running through his body. He was doing his usual impeccable acting job, and she could see how any number of people had been taken in.

She put two fingers beneath his chin and tilted his face up, making sure he was looking at her beneath the facade. “Safeword?” she rapped out, hoping he understood the double context. She would call off this op and find some other way to get them out safely (even if it meant--oh hardship--faking Neal’s impotence) before taking either of them to a place they couldn’t handle.

Neal swallowed nearly imperceptibly and practically mouthed in a voice low enough that even recording devices couldn’t catch it, “Peter.”

She stared him down for a moment and nodded. Well, that was certainly a safeword. It was an admission of sorts and the kind of handing over of power she hadn’t expected even in this little game. “Good.” She let him make of that what he would, but made the removal of her hand a lingering caress. That kind of honesty deserved something, game or not. The brief flash of gratefulness in his eyes said he had not missed that kindness. Oh, this was going to be an even deeper game than she realized. Diana turned away from him for a moment to think and gain a little space.

“In my line of work I see marks like you all the time. Fancy talk, nice suit, acting like you own the world. You’re used to slipping by and getting what you want. But you’re in my world now and you’re going do what I say.”

Neal lowered his head and looked up at her through his lashes again. “Yes mistress.” And there was the spark of that damnable insouciance again. Diana’s mouth twitched in irritation. This was serious. He was always playing off everything, dangerous situations, dangerous games that could, had gotten people better than him (and Neal was good) killed. And he still gave nothing but that glossy surface. She itched to put him in check and she could see where Peter got the urge, got a glimpse of a little of what he saw in him.

She hadn’t missed the way Neal snapped to when Peter tugged on his leash (tracker, same difference), the careful dance they were doing around each other, the heat in Neal and Peter’s eyes when Peter put on or removed his tracker. That was a dangerous game they were playing there too, but Neal didn’t seem know any other way. Peter did; he was too good an agent, too good a man, not to know he was way out on a limb. But for him (and El, she’d bet, because no way Peter would even be going that far without her knowledge), Neal was worth it and she’d never known him to be wrong on that gut instinct. She liked, respected Peter enough to back his plays on this. But she wasn’t going to let Neal play with Peter’s trust or hers without a warning.

She caught his chin again, hard, digging her fingers in again, and she didn’t miss either his wince or the more minute shiver that went through him.

“Yes ma’am will be fine.”

“Yes ma’am.” And that was downright smoky. Neal just got more and more interesting all the time. If this was another mask, it was a damned convincing one.

“I see what you are. You put on that fancy suit and throw around money and live the high life. You think you’re smart enough, good enough, to get away with anything, can talk anyone into anything. But there are limits you’re going to learn. All you really want is for someone to put you in check, for someone like me to take you in hand.” She didn’t miss the shiver that went through Neal’s frame at her slight stress on “someone like me.” Bullseye.

“Do you deserve that? Are you going to be good? Are you gonna let someone like me give you what you need?”

‘Yes ma’am.” She could see him sinking into it, the cover another mask that did little to hide the rawness in his voice. She guessed a con man as good as Neal couldn’t do what he did, be who he was without investing something of himself in whatever part he was playing, but this was as close to the surface as she’d seen him.

“Show me. Tell me what you’d do if I let you. And if you’re good enough, maybe I’ll let you touch.”

Neal swallowed slowly and then spoke.

"If I had you I'd treat you right, like the treasure you are. So many people think you're not worth much. They don't see beyond the exterior. They just think you're a working girl, but I know better. You're sharp as a diamond. You have to be in your line of work. You're one step ahead of the game and in control, and that's what I love."

This wasn't just for the cameras or for her. This was for Peter, all for him, everything--this sting, Neal's time at the FBI, all of Neal. And if he couldn't say it to Peter unguarded, if too much stood between them, the least of which was the anklet, then he could say it to her and their invisible listeners this once.

"I know you've got others, and I wouldn't try to get in the way of that, come between you. I know you've got other commitments, and I know I’m a shell of what I pretend to be, but I could be so good for you if you let me."

Neal tipped his head back, baring his long throat, and Diana trembled with the force of it. Neal, even in surrender, was in control, a force to be reckoned with. But one she was equal to. She threaded a hand through his hair and yanked slightly, enough to get him to slit his eyes open at her.

"You think you can be good enough for this, for what I can give you? This isn't a game, like you can drop some money, flash a smile or two and get off easy. It's going to cost you. You're going to have to give it up. You’re going to have to pay."

Neal regarded her with a slight ironical smile. "Oh I'd pay a lot more than this to get what I want. I've paid a lot already and I guess I'll pay more. I’ve been a bad boy. But let me show you how good I can be."

She let him go and walked away, to hide the twitch of her answering smile as much as anything. Only Neal could inject his porn star dialogue with that much underlying sincerity and self-mockery. When she turned back around to the cameras, she’d schooled her face back into a stern mask. Masks all the time. Neal wore them constantly. He needed to let some things go and he needed someone to make him. If Peter couldn’t do it, well, she was Peter’s second in all things, wasn’t she? And it wasn’t necessarily a chore for her. Suddenly she wanted to see him even more exposed, get below those layers. And if it took up more time then so much the better.

"Strip."

Neal slid to standing gracefully and made it a slow exhibition, drawing it out as much out of natural showmanship as stalling for time. He knew how to show it off, even though she wasn't truly in the market for what he was selling. He let his jacket fall to the floor and slowly drew the tie from around his neck and flirted with each button.

“Slower,” she snapped out, gratified to see the slight twitch of his fingers on the next button.

The next button was less of a striptease, more of a straightforward baring. He held her eyes throughout, no longer smirking, finally baring his chest to her. He made a move to discard his dress shirt and she stopped him.

"No, hang it all up properly. Over there."

She pointed to the fixture that held one of the cameras. He quirked an eyebrow (the "Well done Agent Berrigan" implicit) and then thoroughly covered the camera's eye with his shirt. One down, one to go.

“And your pants. Now!” She put an edge into it as Neal’s hands hesitated over his buckle. He slid his belt out with none of the seductive flirtation of earlier and only paused for a moment as he unzipped and let his pants slide to the floor. Gratifyingly he’d forgotten his shoes and socks but still made toeing all of it off look less ridiculous than it should have. He stood, bare before her except for his boxer briefs, and she took a moment to catalog until Neal had to control a twitch instead of a preen.

"Come here. And crawl." She pointed at her feet and Neal slunk over, all easy hips and grace. and knelt back on his heels in front of her, head bent, palms up on his thighs, his long-fingered, sensitive fingers starfished out in a supplication she didn’t think he was aware of.

She took a moment to run her hands through his hair and felt him settle subtly under her hands. She couldn’t deny he was beautiful here at her feet. The vulnerable nape of his neck, the long sculpted lines of his back and arms, his lean swimmer’s build and lightly muscled frame showed to advantage under the soft lighting. Like the works he stole and forged, Neal himself was a form of art. He was usually like a highly trafficked exhibit and his own curator, choosing what expressions to show, how best to present himself. But only the truly discerning would look closely enough to see the imperfections, the brushstrokes, the things that made Neal who he was. And Neal wanted to be seen, but only by someone who had earned it, someone he could respect. In this strange moment of vulnerability, could make him do anything; she had him at her feet.

She murmured, almost to herself, “Take away the suit and the smart mouth and all that money, and this is what you are. Oh you are beautiful like this, aren’t you? You can be good.”

Neal didn’t even try to reply, didn’t raise his head, but she could feel the last of the tension drain out of him. Seeing him open like this before her, she felt a sudden, unexpected combination of tenderness and heat. He was even more beautiful like this, open, in her hands. Not hers—that was for Peter (and El; the two came together as a matched set as much as she and Christie did). But maybe, like the music box, Peter wouldn’t mind if she safeguarded what was his for awhile. She wouldn’t expose him like this to any more prying eyes. But she could give him something else.

"Now take off my dress."

Neal’s head came up almost too fast, as if she had startled him; he quirked another eyebrow but immediately started to rise, reaching for the neck clasp.

“Ah ah. From the bottom.”

He dropped immediately and his hands slid slowly up her legs, caressing her calves and flirting with the hem of her dress. He slid his hands all the way up, ignoring the comforting weight of the gun and holster strapped to her thigh and shielding it from the camera. He still managed to make it a respectful unveiling, as of a new art piece, an antique goddess statue. Despite herself, Diana felt a twinge run down into her center. He tossed the fuchsia silk behind him, catching it expertly on the other camera fixture with his no-look throw.

She gave him the eye, now out from underneath surveillance and he smiled at her softly, like light underwater, and mouthed "Two points." She snorted, gave his hair a last ruffle and took a moment to appreciate the sight of him kneeling before her before she stepped away to check for any other surveillance devices and came away clean.

“We’re all clear,” she said into her earpiece. “We’re going offline and we’ll wait for your signal with the money.” She didn’t wait to hear what the peanut gallery had to say; she’d face that soon enough.

Neal was still kneeling on the floor, watching her stalk around the room in her underwear with an appreciative quirk to his mouth, mask firmly back in place. It flickered slightly when she stood above him again, still only in pushup bra and panties. He opened his mouth, no doubt to say something smart-assed, and she forestalled it with a finger on his lips.

"Hurt him, either of them, and I'll have your balls." Neal blinked back at her until she lifted her finger, looking only slightly bemused and not even pretending not to understand.

"I don't think you have to worry. And I wouldn't have it any other way." He said, serious for a moment. “And I don’t think it will ever be an issue anyway.” Now that he had let the mask slip, she could see the sadness underneath.

"We'll see," she said. It wasn't her place to give away Peter's secrets but Neal could have more than he thought he could if she was reading Peter right. "But meanwhile, we have a politician to nail."

"And not each other? You wound me!" Neal was instantly back in full flirtation mode.

Diana rolled her eyes. "Whatever. Unlike some people, I am a one woman girl.” She softened the blow with a smile and arched an eyebrow significantly and then let it drop. “And go get us some robes! I don’t need to see all that, and you’ve gotten your eyeful for--oh, forever."

"Yes, ma’am." He gave her an extravagant bow and stepped away, the tension broken for a moment.

"Your friend better come through with the money because I don't plan to stay here all night."

"Oh ye of little faith. Hey, have you ever had a champagne bath?"

She shook her head. Only Caffrey. Later, after champagne and confessions, after new art on the walls, after she’d got her man in both senses, she went home and checked in with Christie and told her of the night’s adventures. Together, they hatched out half a scheme of how to help her boss hide the trail they would inevitably leave on all fronts. She’d already made sure to confiscate the surveillance tape and give it to Peter (she was sure he’d either bury it somewhere or maybe take it home for private viewing). Peter was good at subterfuge when needed, Neal was better and she had no doubt El would provide good cover but the three of them would need all the help they could get.

But that was all hypothetically in the future, and Christie was warm and here now, and their toybox was in the bedroom. And having Neal in front of her on his knees baring himself while under a video eye had been an interesting experience, but she knew who she’d rather have in that position any day. Diana had been working long hours and hadn’t been able to give Christie the attention she deserved. If she could take the time to unravel Neal, it would be more than a pleasure to bare Christie’s beautiful curves, to make her cry out, to let her know that Diana held her in her hands and that she held Diana in return.


End file.
